


Know Thyself

by iridescentemrys



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU - Comicverse, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Rape/Non-con References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-04
Updated: 2013-03-04
Packaged: 2017-12-04 06:15:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iridescentemrys/pseuds/iridescentemrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the events of Nightwing #93. Dick refuses to accept what Tarantula did to him, and the family notices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Know Thyself

**Author's Note:**

> Dick refuses to accept what Tarantula did to him, and the family notices. Angst and fluff, and it's somewhat cheesy at the end, so continue at your own risk. It was meant to be a drabble, but the word count wound up at 1,066, so I'm not entirely sure what this is. Enjoy!

The first time anyone tried to broach the subject with him, it was Barbara, and Dick was confused.

“R—?” He couldn’t even get the word out. That’s when she was sure something was wrong. “Don’t be ridiculous. I—I’m a guy, that doesn’t—no. Don’t be—that’s—no.”

“Okay, okay,” she grabbed his arm tentatively (he was shaking slightly, and she knew it was [ _really_ ] bad because Dick Grayson doesn’t _tremble_ ), and told him to calm down.

(“I _am_ calm,” he replied forcefully, and wouldn’t say anything else.)

xXx

The second time, it was Tim, and Dick was angry.

“What did she say to you?” he demanded, fist clenching on his escrima stick. He wasn’t angry at Tim, not really. He wasn’t sure what he was angry at.

“Nothing, nothing,” Tim shot back defensively, and his voice gentled considerably as he added, “She just mentioned—”

“She’s full of shit!” His cheeks were reddening. “That would never—I would never let—no. Don’t be an idiot.”

“Okay. _Okay_ ,” he emphasized, and he grabbed Dick’s shoulder. Tim was more reserved, but he knew that physical contact was something that meant a lot to Dick, something he needed regularly, so it was double the shock when Dick shoved him off roughly.

“Don’t touch me,” the words came out slurred and broken, and Dick froze for half a second, eyes widening. Tim was more surprised than hurt by this, but apparently it meant something to Dick, because he grabbed Tim and pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry,” he kept saying, “I’m sorry.”

He didn’t let go for almost five minutes, but Tim didn’t protest. He needed it.

xXx

The third time, it was Cass, and Dick was shocked.

“You are alright.”

He stared at her, trying to gauge her meaning as he so often found himself doing. “What do you mean?”

“You are…unharmed?” This time, it was obviously a question.

A burst of panic shot through him. “Has Barbara been talking to you?”

“Well, yes,” she stated dubiously.

“About me.”

“Ah…yes.”

He wanted to snap at her to leave him alone, to make sure that she’d go running back to Babs and that the first Batgirl would get the message that she had to _leave this alone_ , but this was Cass, and she was making an effort in a way that she so rarely did with anyone other than Steph and Tim, and he didn’t have the heart to shoot her down.

“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Cassandra brought this news back to Barbara. She put extra emphasis on the fact that he was lying through his teeth.

xXx

The fourth time it was Bruce, and Dick was doubtful.

“What happened on that rooftop?”

“What?”

“With Blockbuster and Tarantula. What…happened that night?”

Dick sat perched on the top of a gargoyle statue, leaning over a building. It was the first time in a while that he’d been on patrol with Bruce, and he was beginning to understand why Bruce had asked him to come out to Gotham.

“You know what happened.”

“I know your official account.”

“Has _everyone_ been talking to Barbara about this? It—it’s nothing, and she’s—Babs is making a big deal of of—it’s nothing.”

“Look, we know what happened on that roof,” Bruce said, quietly but firmly, after a long pause, “But what we don’t know is if it happened, or if it happened _to you_. And there is a difference.”

“I don’t see how—”

“We both know I can’t make you do anything,” he continued with a bitter smile, “But ignoring this is a bad idea.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Dick shot back darkly.

“Maybe I’m not,” he replied evenly, “But I can be wrong.”

“What are you _implying_?”

After a quick examination of his options, Bruce clicked off the com line and answered, “I’m implying that Tarantula raped you and that you’re pretending it didn’t happen.”

He let the silence fall and turned away to check the other intersecting street, and he wasn’t surprised to find that Dick had disappeared when he looked back.

xXx

Dick dropped off the radar for over a month after that. Some of the others wanted to look for him, to know what had become of him, but he didn’t leave a trace, and Batman put a stop to it, saying that if Nightwing didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be.

Six and a half weeks later, Bruce and Tim stepped out of the Batmobile to find Dick sitting on the center chair at the computers. He was dressed uncharacteristically in an old, ripped pair of jeans and a ratty sweatshirt, twirling slowly in a circle with a listless expression on his face.

“Dick?” Tim asked redundantly, eyes wide, “Where have you been?”

“Romania,” Dick answered distractedly, eyes zeroing in on the two confusedly. His demeanor was nothing like his usual; he was shaky and exhausted looking, eyes unfocused and hair unkempt. “Y-you were right. Both of you. Babs was right. And Cass, I mean. I—Tarantula, she—was—I was—” He buried his face in his hands. “I thought I w-was ready to do this, I’m s-sorry.”

“Oh, my god, Dick,” Tim breathed, stripping his mask off his face. He stood still and just watched him, unsure of what to do. Something about the way Dick stared at them, eyes wide and glassy and _terrified_ , made him feel like he was trying to approach a wild, cornered animal, and he had no idea how to proceed.

Luckily, Bruce did. He pulled him out of his seat, holding him at arm’s length as he checked him over for any visible injuries. A spot of dried mud peeked out from underneath his hair, and his sweatshirt didn’t look like it had been washed in a while either.

“I-I shouldn’t have come here. I’m so-sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“No,” Bruce corrected softly, “You were exactly right to come here. To come home.” He beckoned Tim over. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs. Tim…”

Not needing any further instructions, Tim hurried over and ducked under one of Dick’s arms, pulling him into a more stable standing position (and giving him something _real_ to hold on to).

“You’ll be okay,” he muttered to him as Alfred hurried over to help him get Dick up to his bed, “You’ll be just fine.”


End file.
